Life Without You
by awordycontradiction
Summary: "You know, if someone told me last year that I'd be hanging out with Stiles Stilinski every other night, I'd probably laugh in their face." Lydia admitted with a small smile. "But now, I honestly can't imagine my life without you in it."


#5:: Life Without You

I rubbed my head rather awkwardly and continued to stare into oblivion. _That bitch._ I had to have repeated that phrase forty five times within the last hour. My head was throbbing, the Met game was too loud and the couch was too lumpy. I for lack of a better word was a mess. Scott called a few times, he left some message about meeting up with Derek at the ice rink, Boyd was turning, and he was going to the animal hospital to clean up his wound. He sounded worried but at the moment I couldn't care. I had no car, blurred vision in my right eye and in need of a good nights sleep. The only problem was that Dad wasn't home yet, and I really can't keep my mind from worrying until I hear his keys jingling behind the front door. I yawn and stretched out more on the old gray couch,maybe I should call Scott to see if he's okay, the vet isn't too far away, I can always walk it. I winced as another wave of pain stretched across my forehead. _Screw it._ I wasn't leaving this couch. I lowered the volume on the T.V. and closed my eyes, just to rest them, when of course, the doorbell rang loudly through the empty house. I groaned and debated on ignoring it. When I heard the ringing again I cursed under my breath and stumbled to the door. I was ready with a very rude, very angry remark for the person behind the door, one that would have my mom turning in her grave but any venom in me died the moment I pulled the old knob to reveal my unwanted visitor.

She had been crying, small amounts of mascara were smudged in diagonal marks down her cheeks, her big green eyes were staring at me, with what looked like concern. Concern for what? When she was the one so broken, and her red, kissable lips were swollen at the bottom, excessive biting from the looks of it. All five foot three inches of her stood awkwardly, waiting for me to say something. I just blinked.

"Sorry, I know it's pretty late." She mumbled, staring at the cement porch around her.

"But I remembered you said that if I ever needed to talk-" Her voice died out, as she fought the urge to run away from me, from my house from this whole situation.

"Is this a bad time?" The question couldn't have been more appropriate.

"Uh-" I rubbed my head, staring at Lydia Martin, standing perplexed on my doorstep.

She tugged some of that strawberry blonde hair behind her ear and started to retreat down the steps.

I knew I needed to stop her, she needed me right now, and this was the first time in a long time that I did not mind one little bit to being needed. I let out a puff of air.

"God, no wait- Lydia, please come in." I laughed shakily as I moved enough to let her through. She stared at me unsure. I nodded, a mistake on my part and she quickly walked past me, smelling of peaches and honey, a very relaxing aroma. I rubbed my head while leading her to the living room. Instantly I felt self conscious, her house was flawless, just like her and mine looks like a half-ass-ed bachelor pad. She sat next to me, hugging herself, and I waited for her to finally speak.

"The other night you were so nice to me, I was going completely insane and you didn't even seem to care. You were so good about everything, why?" Lydia looked at me, waiting.

"I-" I cleared my throat, "I don't think your going crazy Lydia, I think something is happening to you, and I wand to help."

"But why?" She demanded, not bothering for a reply.  
"You shouldn't believe me, I am seeing a man everywhere I go now, and it's getting pretty creative. I 'm scared and I know it's not real and anybody else would run, but you- you're just being so nice and supportive and I just need to know why."

My heartbeat sped up, I didn't want to admit it, I couldn't put myself out there again.

But of course I'm an idiot. "You know why." I whispered.

Lydia rubbed her lips together.

I sighed and rested my head on the back of the couch. I closed my eyes again for a second.

Just a second.

"Stiles, Stiles, Stiles!" Her heavenly voice called to me, waking me up. _Waking me up?_

"Stiles, thank god!" I heard her sigh. "Don't do that again!" She hit me.

I blinked, sitting up. "What?"

"How did you hit your head?"

I went to rub at the spot on my temple but was met with cool contact.

"I went through your freezer, hope you don't mind." Was Lydia blushing as she said that?

"But your temple is swollen, what ever you hit your head on had to be really hard."

Lydia informed, completely in doctor Martin mode. "Jeez, Stiles did your truck run over your head?"

I laughed, she really was too clever. "Something like that." I mumbled while sitting up. Lydia started to protest but I ignored her blinking a few times. "I can see out of my eye again." I commented.

Lydia laughed, "It was the swelling. Seriously Stiles are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Don't worry about it." I scoffed. I'm a man, I can handle a car part to the head by an unusually violent and not to mention hot she-wolf.

Lydia faltered a bit on her overly and uncharacteristic spasm of concern.

"Wait, did you said you're seeing a man?" I asked after a few minutes in nice silence. I noticed that she had turned off the Met game, I knew they were losing anyhow. I looked at her face, so beautiful and so scared. My questioned took her away from the worry about me to the worry about her impending psychological break. She sighed deeply through her nose and leaned against the back of the couch, mocking my action, her body so close to mine made me forget everything else in this crappy world.

"Forget it Stiles, it's stupid anyway." She scoffed.  
"It's not if you came all the way here. Do you know who it is?"

Lydia bit her lip and stared at her boots.

"His name is Peter Hale, and look I know that this sounds crazy, but he's a guy who went to our school a long time ago, he was on the basketball team, I saw his trophy- and" She stopped to take in oxygen.

"-and he's dead, Lydia." I finished solemnly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She didn't know him,she didn't know any of this, and I hoped that I could keep her out of it. But how realistic was that? Her best friend's dad is a werewolf hunter who is trying really hard not to kill said best friend's werewolf boyfriend. Not to mention that Lydia's ex boyfriend; who she is still crazy about even if she won't admit it is desperate to become one and then there is me, and no matter how hard I try, no matter what I am willing to do to protect her, I am still lying to Lydia. This whole situations sucks.

"What?" She asked after a long pause.  
"He's dead, he died a couple months ago. My- my dad told me about it."

"Oh." She croaked. No fight in her voice.  
I licked my lips and grabbed for her shoulder. "Lydia, I need to tell you something, and you're not going to like it, but-"

But before I could utter probably the most important information in her very vibrant life the keys that I knew so well jingled in the door and before either of us knew it, we were met with my dad, who looked both exhausted and surprised to see Lydia Martin in our living room, on our couch, with me.

"Hey kids." He said in a tight voice.

"Good evening Mr. Stilinski." Lydia smiled politely.

"Hey dad."

"Stiles what the hell happened to your head?" He asked, peaking over to get a better look.

"Oh- I, uh-"

"That's what I'd like to know." Lydia smirked.

I looked from Lydia to dad and waited for the heat to be off me.

"Well I'm going to head to bed. Stiles you should drive Lydia home soon, it's late."

"Oh that's okay Mr. Stilinski, I drove here." She smiled.

That just saved me an explanation on why my jeep wasn't running.  
"Alright then, good night." He smiled, taking ten years off his worn and worried face and headed up the stairs, out of earshot and away from the turmoil that seemed to surround my life.

"Who's that?" Lydia questioned as soon as dad's bedroom door shut with a thud.

I looked through all the pictures that seemed to surround us, to the one she was pointing at.

"My mom" My throat was immediately dry.

Lydia smiled softly at me, "She's beautiful."

I smiled sadly back at her, "Yeah, she was."

"I know it sounds crazy but I think I remember her."

"Really?" I laughed, more out of astonishment than anything else.

"Yeah, I remember she always made the best cookies for the little league bake sales."

I nodded enthusiastically, almost tasting the melted chocolate on my tongue.

We sat in silence just staring at each other, and all the pictures of my mom that dad moved into the living room, sort of like a tasteful shrine. I appreciated the fact that Lydia was so cool about it. I didn't think she even remembered things like little league anymore, when she was the only girl on Beacon Hills tee ball team, or when we'd get paired up for projects in sixth grade together, and my mom would make us lemonade and dad would let us ride around in the back of the squad car. Memories like that I thought were repressed a long time ago for Lydia, after her parent's divorce, after Jackson Whittemore moved to Beacon Hills after she became the hottest thing to walk the planet earth.

"Your dad's right, I should get going. My mom's going to freak." Lydia yawned while rising to her feet.

I nodded and with the soft grip of her hand, I was up off the couch and following her out to the front hall. I had so much I needed to tell her, I knew she wasn't in any real danger, but I knew that this wasn't healthy. Peter Hale was dead, I saw it with my own eyes, that's why we're in this whole everybody and their mother's a werewolf predicament. She stared up at me expectantly.

"You know, if someone told me last year that I'd be hanging out with Stiles Stilinski every other night, I'd probably laugh in their face." Lydia admitted with a small smile.

"But now, I honestly can't imagine my life without you in it."

I blinked. Did she really just say that? She-wolf hit my head harder than I thought.

"Remember to keep ice on it, and I'll text you in the morning to see how your head's doing."

Lydia started to retreat, then thought different, and walked back to my side. She gave me an adorable grin that was a mix of the fiery one, full of confidence that I was used to, and a softer more innocent one that I planned on getting to know. She didn't wait for me, instead wrapped both her arms around my torso and hugged me close to her. Without her usual extra inches, the top of her head came up to my chest. As she let go I felt hot and cold all over. It was electrifying.

"Lydia, wait." I mumbled, reaching out for her arm.

She looked up at me. I cleared my throat.

"We're going to get through all this, together."

She nodded at me, as to make it a promise and headed down the porch steps to her car, and drove off into the dark night. I shut and locked the door with a content sight. My head felt better, my heart was beating a mile a minute and I couldn't wait to wake up so I could see Lydia again.

I walked back to the living room to shut off the light, and instead of just passing by, I blew a kiss to my moms framed picture of the side table, a thank you for always being there.

Later on we'd find out why Lydia was seeing a dead Peter Hale.

Later on I'd figure out how to help Scott talk some sense into Derek.

Later on I'd find out the score of the Met game.

Later on maybe I'll get the girl.


End file.
